I have some bad news.
Monday evening, when I let Homer out, he was acting odd. He wasn’t interested in eating (very unusual for any member of my household!), and he acted like he was in pain. I checked his intact eye, which was very goopy but not red or swollen. Thinking it was hurting him, I cleaned it and gave him some pain medication, then called the rescue organization to get permission to take him to the vet Tuesday morning.
By Tuesday Homer’s condition had deteriorated significantly. He could barely stand outside to use the bathroom. Jason took him to the vet before 8:00 a.m. and dropped him off, as they had no appointments.
Because Homer is a foster dog, all decisions about his care are made by the rescue organization. But it was still quite a punch in the gut when the rescue lady contacted me around 10:00 a.m. and told me that they had decided to put Homer to sleep. His liver was not functioning, and he was fighting some sort of infection – maybe in his optic nerve. He was also 12, possibly 13 years old.
We picked him up from the vet and buried him in our yard.
I am so sad for him. He had a hard life before we picked him up at the shelter in December. I like to think we gave him some measure of comfort and peace at the end of his life, but I also feel like I should have noticed something, should have done more for him.
Homer, you were a good dog. I’m glad to have known you.